Conversations with Death

*Written by Gale*

Disclaimer - The character isn't mine. I take some artistic license, but I take no credit for the conception of the character itself. The credit goes to Marvel Comics.

Chapter #1: The End is the Beginning is the End

Time was always a precarious thing for me. Without a body, even one that treaded the eons so unmarked as my own had been, I began to wonder if it existed at all. That was the ironic thing about Death. Once, when I was very young, and still very stupid, I catered to the belief shared by my surrogate father's people -- that people who die were to carry on to a "next life."

When several millennia had passed, and I turned to look back on all the illusions that were stripped away from my being, I no longer held to that thought. I am not even sure when it was that it left me. I never stopped to wonder of that -- not until it was too late to speculate. All I know is that I have seen little proof of reincarnation, or even divinity beyond myself. Of all the faces and names I can recall, I have never once seen their familiar shine after expiration. Even that of my mentor.

There is no afterlife.

There is the beginning.

The end.

There is me.

Apocalypse.

Then why am I still here?

Why, when I reached the end, when I knew it was over, when I ceased to exist, did I begin to stop and think, How long has it been over now?

If the end has already come, then Apocalypse has come and gone. Who am I, then? Am I still En Sabah Nur? (…How long has it been since I called myself that?) Am I anything at all?

Surely, I must be. I would not be able to ask it if I were not. Do I have a body?

No, I lost that long before I reached the End.

As it is, I am beginning to think that I do not much like this idea of just being. Asking myself these questions are doing little save confusing me. I never much adored that even when I still had logic wires in the brain that could cross.

…My thoughts certainly made a great deal more sense when I had something tangible to store them all in.

I have come to one conclusion: just being is not working out all too well for me. So I call myself En Sabah Nur, at least until a better name comes along. I am not so sure it is that easy to leave behind, not as easy as Apocalypse. I was The First One once. It is only fitting that I hold onto the title now that I'm beginning again. At the end.

There I go again.

It is at least pleasing to know I have not ceased to exist. At least, I think I have not stopped existing. Would I be able to if I did?

Damn it. I am beginning to wonder if earthly philosophers willingly became martyrs or not. I, for one, would relish having rocks thrown at me if it meant my head hurt due to some outside anomaly. Then again, I don't have a head anymore.

Stop it.

Well, I know I exist. I must. But then, where did everything else go?

…Not that I need anything else.

I do not think I understood the concept of sheer boredom until now. Such are the drawbacks of being alone.

But no, this is different. Even as Apocalypse, I could busy myself even when not in the company of others. I still had things around me to occupy my attention, and when nothing interested me, I slept. Even then, I dreamt or I was not aware of the passage of time at all. Either way, there was always something to keep me from the contemplation of such disconcerting and, in the end, pointless thoughts. Here, there is nothing. Nothing. And I am painfully aware of it.

So what I need is a distraction. My will guided my needs in life. I have only to see if that holds true in death as well. When I am only En Sabah Nur.

So that should be all that is needed.

I want something to happen. I want someone to talk to.

I want…

TO BE CONTINUED…